The Artist and Me

by Kay, Hannah;

  I grinned back. “’Course it is, man.” I patted him on the back, smiling.

  “Come on. Let’s go watch some sports.” It was comedic, of course.

  Chapter Five

  Julie

  Sun blared through my windows and I dragged my covers over my face as a shield. I’d stayed up late the night before—even later than usual. The clock by my bed read eleven-twenty-four in painfully bright numbers. I honestly felt like the lying dead with heavy eyes, a tight chest and a clouded mind.

  I groaned as my stomach turned. It’d been over nineteen hours since I’d eaten but I couldn’t force myself to move. My limbs felt like a hundred angry pounds.

  Note to self—don’t stay up until four in the morning ever again.

  That was when I heard a startling ringing that bounced off the walls of the house. I groaned, slowly blinking my eyes in my barricade to adjust to the blue-gray of my own personal oasis. Then there was that noise again—sharp, darting daggers through my head. Ding dong! I sighed, pushing the blanket off my body, but shuddering at the light that assaulted my senses.

  Groaning, I stumbled forward from my room into the shady hallway, exhaling at the darkness. I blinked the sleep from my eyes and slowly became aware that there was no one home. Silently, I walked to the door. My fingers reached forward through my other-worldly haze and wrapped around the brass knob, turning it then opening it to the blinding sunlight.

  Vision black, I merely heard her voice. “Oh, Julie, did I wake you?”

  I must have looked awful. I laughed. “No, why do you ask?” I countered, fraying sarcasm over my embarrassment.

  She laughed with me. “Oh, no reason.” She was coming into focus now, standing in the middle of the sidewalk wearing jeans and a soft gray T-shirt. She was grinning at me like we were old friends. She wrapped her arms around her body, leaning back on her heels. “I wanted to invite you to come out to my boyfriend’s Getaway House thing for the weekend.”

  I made a face. “Krista, that’s nice of you, really, but I don’t want to be the third wheel on…that,” I answered, imagining me, Mike and Krista getting down in the woods all weekend. Even the thought screamed awkward.

  She laughed, blonde hair tossing as her head jerked back. “No worries, Jules. It’s just a girls’ weekend,” she told me, slipping her hand in her pocket and holding up a key. “See?” She grinned widely at me. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

  I laughed, nodding. It really did sound fun—a weekend without the awkwardness of my dad’s ever-silent behavior. I hadn’t had a girls’ night, much less a weekend, since Mom died. “Sure, okay,” I answered, glancing down at my appearance. I was wearing my shorts and mismatched socks, along with my by now majorly wrinkled T-shirt. I could only imagine how terrible my hair looked. “Come on in.”

  Half an hour later, I was dressed, wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt under my coat. My hair had been flat ironed, drifting to the small of my back in a perfect straight line, and I’d bent over the kitchen counter, scribbling out a note to my dad in shorthand. I grinned, sticking it to the fridge with the obnoxious ‘Editor of the Year’ magnet—the single thing on the fridge, mind you—and turned to the living room where Krista was waiting, watching TV on our black couch.

  She glanced up and grinned. “Ready?”

  I nodded, holding up the bag I’d packed with my night stuff and extra clothes. “Ready.”

  She smiled, flipping off the TV and standing. “All right, then let’s go. Do you want to drive or navigate?” she asked, lifting a well-manicured eyebrow.

  I laughed. “I’d better drive. I’m awful with maps. I’d have us lost in five minutes.”

  She laughed, nodding. “Sounds good.” She smiled, linking her arm with mine and steering me from the house. She walked on to get her things from her car and waited at my car while I locked the door.

  Soon we hit the pavement, driving north out of the hole-in-the-wall town that was Carltonville and toward some cabin in the woods that I quickly learned used to belong to Mike’s now-dead granddad. “Mike and his grandpa were really close.” She smiled when she talked about Mike, which made me smile. It seemed like they were happy. “Mike used to come up here every Sunday after church and watch football with him.” She laughed a bit as she looked over the map in her hands. “I’ve only been here once,” she admitted, folding the map carefully in her lap. “It was just after he died and Mike wanted to come up. He was crying the entire time.” She sighed, glancing at the road sign just down the road. “Oh, let’s pull off at this next exit and get some pizza.”

  I nodded, following her directions to a pizza place. It was a simple red brick building with a sign out front reading Al’s. “People around here are really creative.” Sarcasm at its finest.

  She laughed. “Oh, I know.” She opened the car door, grinning over at me. “I know it doesn’t look like much but, Julie, they make the best pizza in a hundred-fifty mile radius.”

  Skeptically I replied, “That’s encouraging.” Slipping from the car, I looked through the window. The inside walls were painted yellow, and I could see black tabletops.

  “Oh, come on,” she urged, pulling me behind her to the door before pushing it open.

  I gasped when the smell hit me. It was like a bulldozer, pushing me over, and yet it pulled me in like a moth to a light at the same time. The room was surprisingly crowded for the middle of nowhere, but the smell seeped through the bodies and to my waiting nose, sending my senses reeling. It was all freshly baked crust and mozzarella cheese and garlic. “Whoa.”

  She grinned from beside me. “Pick a seat, any seat, and I’ll get us a slice,” she announced to me and I nodded, sitting at a table right beside the fountain drink machine—easy for me to pop over to it every few minutes for refills. Did I mention I’m a soda junkie?—and pulling my phone from my pocket. Dad’d texted. Have fun, honey! I shook my head in response, stuffing the phone back into my pocket.

  “Drum roll please…” Krista’s voice called as she walked up with a red plastic tray and set it down. “I now present Al’s ‘Piping Hot Fresh Pepperoni-oroni Pizza’.” On the tray were two paper cups and two paper plates, both with a single huge slice of thin crust pepperoni pizza on top.

  “That was fast,” I commented as she slid into the chair across from me.

  She grinned, nodding. “Al’s always ready. Try it.”

  I smiled, slowly picking up the huge slice and biting off the tip. My teeth sank into it in slow motion, and I tasted each individual layer separately—the molten hot cheese, the light layer of tomato sauce and the crunchy pie crust that tied it all together. I sighed in content, devouring another bite and chewing slowly, savoring the grease that flooded my taste buds. I’d never been a girl particularly obsessed with counting calories or only eating salads. I loved food and my mom and I appreciated all types of food—greasy or leafy, leafy or starchy. So, this was like a little triangular slice of heaven.

  Krista laughed at my expression. “You like?” She was taking her first bite to my third, but I really didn’t care.

  I nodded wholeheartedly. “I love.”

  She laughed, grinning broadly at me. “I knew you would.”

  I smiled, standing up. “What do you want to drink?” I asked, picking up both cups.

  “I’ll take a Sprite, thanks,” she told me with a little smile and I nodded, turning to the soda machine. I filled her cup first with clear bubbles and ice before fixing it up with a top and a straw then filling my cup to the brim with Diet Coke—I’d never been able to stand the taste of regular Coke. It tasted like battery acid to me—and I gave it the same treatment.

  I sat down once again and we finished our pizza in pleasant silence. I was beginning to be really glad I’d met Krista. She was nice and fun and seemed to actually like me. She also seemed like one of those people who was friends with everyone—not to diminish our friendship… I mean, like, I figured she talks to everyone she sees in the halls at school and
never leaves someone with no one to sit with at lunch, which would make things easier on me when school started in August.

  Soon we sat there with empty plates, sipping our drinks, and she looked at me. “Wanna get one for the road?”

  I grinned back. “Do you have to ask?”

  The pizza’s deadly aroma penetrated even through the trunk, intoxicating scent wafting to our nostrils once again as I sipped my Diet Coke slowly from the front seat. The road was lined with trees. We’d been driving for almost an hour and a half—excluding our excursion to the Pizzeria from the Gods—and that was when Krista told me to pull off onto the long, winding driveway right off the deserted road. A few minutes later, we arrived at a cabin nuzzled into the trees. I smiled. It was quaint.

  “Here we are,” Krista said with a little smile, grabbing her bag from the back and pulling it onto her lap. “I’m excited.”

  I laughed at her excitement, nodding. “Me too.”

  We slipped from the car and I got the pizza from the back, slinging my bag across my shoulder. Side by side, we ambled toward the house like a couple of grinning schoolgirls until the door swung open as we stepped onto the porch. Standing there in a white T-shirt and jeans was Lucas, who for today had ditched his glasses. He looked between us, confused. “Krista! Julie…” He trailed off, eyes roaming from the pizza box in my hands to the bags on our shoulders before lifting back to the pizza box. “Well… You two aren’t the pizza guy.”

  I was silent. In one moment I was looking at both of them at the same time, seeing double, until Mike’s head popped around Lucas’ shoulder and the three of them looked at me. I groaned inwardly. It was all a big set-up.

  “You brought pizza!” Mike exclaimed, grinning at Krista who—I now noticed—was glaring at him.

  “Mike, what did you do?” Her accusing eyes told the entire story like CliffsNotes of a novel. He’d told her she could use the cabin for the weekend then brought himself and Lucas up as a little ‘surprise’—one surprise she obviously wasn’t expecting and also didn’t approve of.

  Mike laughed. “I didn’t do anything, beautiful.” He pecked her cheek, grinning. “Good to see you again, Julie,” he said to me, but my mind was reeling too much to respond.

  Krista huffed quietly. “We need to talk, Michael.”

  He nodded, wrapping his arms around her frame and grabbing her behind the knees, jerking her into his arms, bridal style. “Yes, dear.” He then toted her into the cabin, leaving the door open and leaving the chill of air conditioning seeping through the mug toward us.

  I coughed, rubbing the back of my neck with my hand. “Well,” I mumbled, turning my eyes back to Lucas. “This is awkward.”

  His eyes snapped suddenly into focus on me, dark orbs grinning back as he let out a slow chuckle. “It really is.” He smiled then, seeming suddenly aware of something I couldn’t identify. “Want to come in?”

  I nodded. Frankly, it was hot and humid. Plus we were deep in the forest and I swear everything smelled like chlorophyll and recycled carbon dioxide. “That’d be good.”

  We shuffled inside and I was startled by the room we were currently standing in. It seemed larger than the outside of the house, but I had seen many places that were bigger than they appeared. The bigger surprise was the décor. It was ten times as modern as my dad’s house and had been occupied by only Mike’s granddad for years. “Wow,” I commented quietly, doing a three-sixty turn to look around.

  He chuckled, bobbing his head in agreement. “That’s what I said.” He eyed the pizza box in my hands. “Want me to take that to the kitchen?”

  “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  He smiled, taking it. “Well, make yourself at home.”

  Once he’d disappeared down the hallway, I walked over to the couch and sat in the center, crossing one of my legs over the other. The remote to the giant flat-screen mounted on the wall had been tossed half haphazardly to the side at our arrival, and I took it in my hands, flipping it on mindlessly. I wasn’t convinced there would be any signal out here—after all, the radio in my car had been playing nothing but rough static for forty miles—but was surprised when a list of at least a hundred channels spilled out at my disposal.

  “Julie, I promise I had nothing to do with this,” Krista announced as I channel-surfed Grandpa Fisher’s flat-screen. She sat beside me, blonde tresses now pulled into a messy bun, and I sighed, imagining her thrusting the hair into a knot out of irritation with her boyfriend during their little chat. “If you want to leave, I completely understand. He planned this, I guess, but you really don’t have to stay.”

  I glanced down at the bag still waiting at my feet then back up at her. She looked genuinely disappointed at how things had turned out and I felt bad for her. I think she’d really been trying to do something nice. I smiled. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I want to stay. This way I’ve got a buffer,” I joked, smiling.

  She grinned back. “Exactly! This will be good. I promise!” She laughed quietly. “I should’ve known Mike was up to something. He actually suggested this.”

  I shook my head. “Never trust men.”

  “Hey, don’t be like that, Jules!” Mike announced, flopping onto the couch to drape an arm around Krista. “I come bearing nachos!” He held up the bowl he was holding, flashing a smile my way.

  I just shook my head, eyeing Mike’s arm. “Buffer, oh buffer… Wherefore art thou buffer?” I called, amused by my own bad joke.

  Krista laughed—maybe out of pity, but it was hard to tell. “Lucas! Get your butt back in here!”

  * * * *

  Hours ticked by, spent laughing and watching TV and chomping on Mike’s specialty nachos. It felt good to be there. Okay, it felt good to have friends—or at least feel like I did. I hadn’t felt this good, this real, this alive since my mom died. So, as the hands of the grandfather clock on the wall ticked along, moments passed, eclipsed like hours and tumbled to the feet of sunset.

  Mike and Krista ended up asleep on the opposite side of the couch from me. Lucas had gone to make popcorn and they’d been dozing in and out of unconsciousness for a while when the predictable voices and sounds of Friends played their lullaby and ultimately took them. Krista’s head was resting dreamily on Mike’s shoulder and his arms were draped around her waist. Myself, I was wide awake, hands cradling a can of Diet Coke from the store of thousands of soft drinks in the mini fridge built into the coffee table.

  I heard Lucas coming. He shuffled his feet when he walked, probably because he was self-conscious—or he seemed it at least. I turned to look at him through the near-black room—lit only by the television—and smiled. My eyes zeroed in on his figure, holding the popcorn bowl. He walked forward and looked over the edge of the couch. He chuckled, shaking his head. “This always happens,” he murmured, laughing, then turning to me. “There’s a TV in our room, if you’d like to resume this there.” He didn’t say it in a creepy stalker-boy way. Instead it sounded like a friendly offer, an offer that included being able to munch on popcorn and chit-chat and pop tops on more Coke without worry of waking our sleeping companions.

  I nodded. “Sounds good.” I gathered my bag and my Diet Coke before pulling a couple more from the fridge and winking at him. “It might be a long night.” I didn’t mean it in a bad way, but with a Friends marathon, cans of Coke up the wazoo and that enticing bowl of popcorn calling my name—not to mention Lucas, but there was no defining that so I chose not to think about it—I wasn’t planning on going to sleep soon.

  He grinned in response, offering me a hand. When my eyebrow lifted questioningly, he chuckled. “It’s going to be dark when you turn off the light, and you’ve never been back there.” He flashed a genuine grin my way. “You don’t want to wake them, do you?”

  I stifled a laugh but shook my head. My right hand extended to intertwine with his while the other gripped the remote firmly. His hand was surprisingly strong for such a small frame—from all the writing? It was warm against my palm and I fli
pped off the TV.

  His hand led me through the darkness, recreating the path earlier overtaken by the luminescent light of Monica’s apartment. We walked in time with a slow heartbeat, the tick of a metronome or the clock on the wall. It was alive and we followed it through the hallway until his hand hit a doorknob. He pushed it open and suddenly we were standing bathed in moonlight. It was full and round, an innocent moon, the color of wonder or childhood dreams.

  I looked up at him again and he was smiling. His eyes met mine again. “Window open or closed?” he asked me, walking over to flip on the TV. The room was big, one bed against two of the four walls and the TV positioned awkwardly in front of one of the beds.

  “Leave it,” I answered, casting my eyes to the window again before sighing quietly and setting my things at the foot of the bed. I reached forward, untying the bow on my coat, and felt him watching me. “What?”

  He chuckled awkwardly. “I’ve just never seen you without your coat.”

  It was a simple reply, I guess. Probably not the only one, either. I let it go, though, slipping my arms from the blue fabric and gingerly stretching the coat over the end of the bed. “It was my mother’s coat,” I admitted, sliding down onto the floor and leaning my head back against the bed’s mattress.

  He was silent then he was beside me, a stack of pillows in hand. “I heard about that…” he began, holding out a pillow to me and I began to take it, but he shook his head. “Let me.”

  I leaned forward and he tucked the pillow behind me, cushioning my body more comfortably before looking at me again.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  Then I noticed his kind eyes. They looked like the kind of eyes that had not only seen pain but also lived it—the kind of eyes you could look into for ages without tiring of them because they were so expressive. Windows to the soul, as the old cliché went.

  “Thanks.” My voice was a whisper in the silence and I heard the pitter-patter of rain against the roof overhead. I cut the sound on the TV, flipping manually through the channels because I was too lazy to find the remote.